


Fool's Gold

by ChillyHollow



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran Strike Boxing Day Ficlet Fest, F/M, Money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillyHollow/pseuds/ChillyHollow
Summary: Alternate Universe exploration of Matthew Cunliffe's personality, using the prompt "Gold."
Relationships: Matthew Cunliffe/Sarah Shadlock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Cormoran Strike Boxing Day Ficlet Fest





	Fool's Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeBoxingDayFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeBoxingDayFest) collection. 



_**“All that glitters is not gold.”** _

Matthew dumped his cashmere coat onto a chair and sat down at the table the waiter had shown him. Being next to the bar would mean a lot of coming and going past their table but he supposed it would mean faster service, too. He hoped she wouldn’t be late. He was eager to eat and get to the second part of their planned afternoon but London traffic during the holidays was worse than ever. While he waited, he looked around the sedate dining room, divided into two sections by a huge Christmas tree, tastefully decorated in red and gold glass balls with twisted swags of both colors. He should suggest Robin dump their usual hodgepodge decorations and go for a themed and coordinated look next year. She could pick up something really nice at a discount during the After Christmas sales.

The dining areas had walnut paneling and crisp ironed linen tablecloths; the men were in smart suits and the women in heels, tiny gold chains, diamonds, rubies and pearls. It all spelled money, status and style--the London Matthew loved. This was supposed to be a very discrete and exclusive establishment as well as one with good food, and he’d done well to manage a reservation. His waiter brought him a whiskey and menus, and he ordered for them both, including a bottle of Bordeaux that he knew was a particular favorite of his dining companion’s.

Left alone, Matthew looked around again and noticed the assistant chairman of Lloyd’s, a swarthy older man he thought was a news presenter presiding over a table full of young sycophants, and a gorgeous very tall woman he recognized as the supermodel Ciara Porter. She was bent at the waist to kiss someone at a table hidden behind the Christmas tree, then turned to greet the other person at the table, a rich and famous musician whom Matthew had heard was also heavily into property. He didn’t like women taller than he was, but Matthew had to admit that Ciara was ethereally beautiful. He’d love to be either her accountant or her rich rock star friend’s. What a windfall that would be. Too bad he didn’t know anyone who knew either of them. All it would take was an introduction. “Matthew!”

His lunch companion had arrived. He stood and—inspired by Ciara Porter—kissed her on both cheeks. “How continental of you,” she giggled as she dumped her coat on the empty chair with Matthew’s and sat. The sommelier miraculously appeared with their Bordeaux, opened it with a small flourish and poured Matthew a little in a gold-rimmed wineglass. Matt made a production of swirling and tasting it, then nodding. The sommelier poured them both a full glass of red wine and disappeared silently. “How was traffic?”

“It was terrible. There was a delay on the Tube of at least 15 minutes. I’m not too late, am I? The Christmas traffic is horrible. But I made time to pick up this. Merry Christmas!” With a flourish she pulled a flat narrow box from her big designer tote bag. Matthew took it and smiled as he recognized the logo on the ribbon as that of a very exclusive men’s shop. Inside was a Hermes tie, with what he thought were tiny gold letter Hs on a navy ground. “Thank you!” Matthew produced his own little box, this one from a well known jeweler, and handed it over. Inside was a charm for a bracelet, 14 karat gold in the shape of a dollar sign with a tiny winking ruby in the center. “I thought it would be discrete enough for you to wear on your bracelet.” His guest presented her plump arm, showing off a heavy gold link charm bracelet dangling fanciful little charms in brassy golds and sterling silver. “It’s perfect! You are so clever!”

“My new tie looks quite a bit like several navy ones I have already. Robin will never notice it among the others.” The couple kissed, a long lingering kiss full of promise. Then their food arrived and they tucked in with abandon, laughing and talking and occasionally feeding each other while Matthew kept their wine glasses full. He decided to order another bottle. Why not? He was going to claim this as a client dinner on expenses anyway. This was the sort of place one took clients, after all. No one would ever know.

“Do we have a hotel room for this afternoon?” he asked. “Of course. I put it on my charge card. Since Tom and I don’t live together he’ll never see the charge. This was a great idea, to have an afternoon out before the holidays. We’re not going to be able to see each other again until we get back to London after the New Year.” She stroked Matthew’s leg under the table possessively. The new bottle arrived and they quickly refilled their glasses from it, getting progressively drunker during the meal. By the time pudding and coffee arrived, Matthew was ogling his companion’s ample breasts quite obviously. She’d worn his favorite tight red sweater and he was looking forward to taking it off her shortly. Her hand was busy under the table, reminding him of the delights to come.

Behind the Christmas tree, Cormoran Strike was watching the amorous couple via strategically placed mirrors. He’d recognized Matthew immediately and although he was there to transact business, he kept an eye on the couple. “I need a favor,” he finally said to his companion after their business was nearly over. “See the short busty blonde next to the bar with the guy all over her? He’s cheating on his fiancé and I need a good photo of them but he’ll recognize me. Do you think you can get a drink at the bar and surreptitiously get a photo of them together?” Jonny Rokeby looked intrigued. “The one with the gigantic Bristol Cities in the tight red sweater? Sure! Be right back.” He got up and strolled languidly over to the bar, ignoring all the eyes on him as he moved, and leaned on it fairly close to the love birds. The barman was there instantly. “Could I get a Manhattan with bourbon?” The barman went to work and Rokeby pulled out his phone and pretended to scroll through messages as he waited. Matthew and his lady friend stopped looking at his long, lanky figure after a bit and began kissing, fueled by drink and illicit desire. Rokeby took a series of photos without them noticing, making sure he got the gift boxes still open on the table in some of the shots. He even managed a shot of the blonde massaging her lover under the table, leaving no doubt as to their intentions. Then he took his drink, left a very nice tip, and wandered back to his table.

“Done!” He quickly and efficiently emailed all the photos to Strike. “She’s a ripe one. I bet they are off for a quickie in five minutes. Now about that building....” They went back to business.

Matthew gestured for the waiter and asked for the bill, eager to leave the restaurant now. He was more focused on putting on his topcoat and helping his companion with hers so they could get to the hotel bed fast than on tipping the waiter--which would later cause the waiter to put Matthew’s name on the No Reservations list as soon as he realized he’d been stiffed. Shortly they were out the door, her hand tucked down behind his belt at his waist and his around her shoulders to clutch one full breast.

Cormoran watched them leave, wondering what to do with those photos he’d impulsively asked for. The thought of his trusting and kind golden-haired partner marrying this shit made his blood boil. Well, first things first. He needed to bring her up to speed on Rokeby’s payment for services rendered. Later he’d figure out whether he should be the one to break Matthew’s infidelity to her. Silly sod to cheat with that hussy when he had his engagement ring on Robin’s finger. Idly he wondered who had provided the flashy diamond and gold engagement ring that the busty blonde wore. Two of a kind, they were. He turned back to Rokeby and coffee and family chat. Behind him the red and gold Christmas balls reflected the other diners—the bright holiday cheer showing the foibles of those who came to dine to those with the eyes to see.

**Author's Note:**

> Per popular request, this story continues with “New Year’s Resolution: Read More Poetry.”


End file.
